


We Could Have Had It All

by BrownieFox



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Mystery Trio, but also kinda not, cute short scene w stan n tate, fidds has a wife, kinda msytery, stan gets burned, stan o war is also there, there's like two swear words so be warned, wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Ford is living the perfect life. He's funded to conduct research on all things weird with his best friend Fiddleford and his twin brother Stanley. Everything is perfect.Perhaps that's the problem.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	We Could Have Had It All

“Dammit Pointdexter, next time can you study something from, like, a reasonable distance?!”

“I wouldn’t be able to see all the details for a distance!” 

Ford bounced up and down, carried over Stan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He tried to sketch another line on his picture of the gremloblin, but the less-than-smooth ride was making it hard. Not to mention, the gremloblin itself was in motion, a less than ideal reference to use. With a sigh, Ford shut his journal, slipping it and his pen into his coat. The gremloblin was gaining on them, but It seemed to be losing interest - did it have a territory? Ford needed to write that down - and with one last angry roar flew away with wings! _ Wings! _

“Stan, Stan stop, I need to draw that!” Ford slapped his brother’s back.

“Do you want to die?” Stan shouted back.

“It flew away, Stan, it has wings!” Ford didn’t wait for Stan to stop, already squirming around until he fell off of his brother’s shoulder, hitting the forest floor with an ‘oof!’ before scrambling into a sitting position and pulling out his journal. 

“Can’t it wait? Fidds is gonna get anxious - more anxious than usual - if we don’t get back home soon.” Stan put his hands on his hips, tapping his foot. Ford looked up at his brother, clasping his hands together. He could tell that Stan was wavering. All he needed was to pull out his ace.

“If you’ll just let me draw this, we can go out on the lake tomorrow looking for the gobblewonker, I promise.” Ford said, and with a long and drawn-out sigh, Stan sat down on the grass next to him.

“Fine, but I’m not going to be the one dealing with Fidds when he starts tearing the woods apart trying to find you.” Stan warned.

“Fiddleford is busy with his own project right now, he won’t even notice we left.” Ford waved off the concern, flipping his notebook open and starting to jot down notes again.

“Don’t forget to mention its huge and horrifying teeth.” Stan said, lying down with his hands tucked underneath his head, eyes closed. 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ford murmured, already lost in his writing. 

The sun set by the time Ford was done and he had to nudge Stan to wake him back up. Stan grumbled about being woken up, but stood and stretched and then followed behind Ford back to the house. Nobody knew the woods like Ford did. Well, perhaps Manly Dan knew the woods better than Ford, but he certainly didn’t see them the same as Ford did, and even Stan recognized that, trusting his brother to lead him home. 

Fiddleford was still there, outside of the house and in the middle of welding something, a hasty tarp-curtain set up to keep anybody from accidentally being blinded or burned from the arc. Stanley went inside Ford’s house while Ford waited for his friend to finish up. Eventually Fiddleford realized he wasn’t alone anymore and came out, lifting his mask and grinning at Ford. 

“You just missed Tate and my wife. Had to go home for dinner n’ such. They send their love.” Fiddleford reported, starting to put his things away, and Ford helped him. 

“If you wanted to spend the night with them-” Ford started, but Fiddleford was already shaking his head.

“They know how it is, how busy we are, and it’s just one night. I wouldn’t be able to focus on family time anyway, not with this beaut still in the works.” Fiddleford patted the metal he’d been working on affectionately - and then yelped, jerking his burned hand away from the still-hot metal. Ford laughed.

“Alright, if you insist on staying you know I appreciate your company.” Ford smiled. “You can tell me all about what exactly ‘this beaut’ is over dinner. I imagine we’ve only got another minute or two before S-”

“Are you nerds gonna get in here for dinner tonight, or am I going to have to carry you in myself? You know I can outrun either of you!”

“Make then two seconds.” Ford corrected. 

After dinner, Fiddleford went back outside to keep working on his project - something that would hopefully make exorcising ghosts a bit of an easier task - and Ford almost went to his office to continue writing notes. But Stan found him in there and dragged him to the bed room.

“You promised you wouldn’t have a late night, and I need somebody wide awake to be on the lake with me tomorrow.” Stan said. 

They had tried separate bedrooms for a little bit. In the end, the room that Ford had had for his room before he’d asked Stan to come over from Jersey had been converted into another work room - one for Fiddleford to keep his own inventions and notes in - while Stan and himself slept in the attic. 

Ford fell asleep to the sound of his brother snoring lightly, a small smile on his face. 

oOo

Ford made true on his promise about going out on the lake. 

The Stan O’ War was sitting by the dock, proud and beautiful, wood that had been carefully and lovingly replaced gleaming in the morning light. It wasn’t sea-worthy, but it was lake-worthy and perfectly at home at Gravity Falls Lake. Ford got himself situated with his notebooks and various instruments, dealing with various things that he kept on the ship for this very type of outing, while Stan went through the tasks to get the Stan O’ War out to the middle of the lake.

The boat had seemed bigger when they were children, and while it was now small to them and there wasn’t much space, it was still perfect for the two of them. 

They went out, away from the confines of land, letting the waves shift the boat around a bit but ultimately staying in more or less the same spot. 

“What’re we looking for again?” Stan asked, looking over the side of the boat. 

“The gobblewonker.” Ford reminded his brother. “A ridiculous name, I know, but it’s a local legend that is worth looking into.” 

There was companionable silence between them as Ford looked over the readings he was getting and Stan brought out the fishing pole and assorted supplies he kept on board, casting a line out and reclining back. 

“Crazy how we got this old thing all the way from Jersey to Oregon, huh?” Stan said eventually. He didn’t seem bothered that no fish had found any interest in his hook, content to just leave it where it had landed for now. 

“She’s the Stan O’ War, of course she’d be here, at our home.” Ford replied simply. “You were the one who insisted, after all, and went through all the work to get her here. After all, it really wouldn’t be the Stan O’ War without you on it with me.” 

Stan hummed in acknowledgement. He was smiling, but it seemed oddly weak in a way that confused Ford. 

Before he could dwell on it too much, some of the machines he’d been watching started to beep frantically and the waves grew more fierce.

“The gobblewonker?!” Stan sat up, reeling his pole in and looking hopefully out at the lake, the odd mood from before suddenly and sharply missing. Ford almost climbed out of the boat to look out at the water, trying to catch even a glimpse of it. There, a dark shadow beneath the water, just barely too dark to make out much of the shape of the monster. It was swimming closer and closer. At first Ford thought it was coming towards the boat, but no, it was swimming towards…

“Your bait, Stan, it’s after your bait!” Ford said, shaking his brother’s shoulder just as the bobber went under. 

The chase for the gobblewonker lasted most of the afternoon, ending with Stan falling into the lake and losing his favorite fishing pole. 

They not caught so much of a glimpse of what the legendary monster truly looked like. 

oOo

Fiddleford was spending a date-day with his wife, and thus Stan and Ford had been saddled with baby-sitting duty. 

Tate was a good kid, and he and Stan got along like fire and gasoline, which was great in the sense that it meant Tate didn’t mind being left with them - in fact, he seemed to love to hang out with Stan - but it did mean that Ford had to essentially look after two children, which really isn’t great. 

“So I just need to put this part here?” Ford could hear Stan ask from the other side of the door. 

“Yep! Now make sure you have those safety glasses on while cut this.” Tate responded. There was a whirring sound of some machine being started up.

“Alright, this has been great, but it’s time to unlock the door now!” Ford shouted through the door, pointlessly jiggling the handle and slamming his not-much weight against the door. 

“Don’t worry Ford, this won’t kill anybody.” Stan promised.

“Eh, hopefully.” Tate said. “My dad tends to make a lot of accidently-evil things.”

“Is it supposed to be moving already?” Stan asked.

“Uh, no.”

“Uh oh.”

“Stan?! Tate?!”

As it turns out, Stan and Tate had built some kind of wooden soldier that was supposed to keep the house safe from any manner of anomaly that tried to get in without permission. Unfortunately, it seemed instead set on just killing any creature of any kind that was in the house, human and house owner included.

They ended up destroying the wooden soldier, but in doing so also destroyed a wall of the house. Stan and Tate were locked in the TV room while Ford called up the Corduroy family to fix up the damage. It was lucky the lumberjacks were so good at their job, it wouldn’t take more than a day or two for the repairs to be done. Fiddleford and Emma-May apologized profusely when they got back from their serene date in the magical part of the forest. 

“I guess making accidental-evil robots runs in the family.” Ford had teased his best friend. McGucket wasn’t responsible for what his son did, and his son was just a child, so he didn’t hold it against either of them.

“It won’t happen again.” Fiddleford promised.

“It’ll probably happen again.” Emma-May whispered to Ford like she was confiding in him a secret. 

There was one person, however, who was still at fault.

When the front door was shut, Ford turned around to see Stan wasn’t in the TV room anymore, though the TV was still on. It was the only light in the room, and the atmosphere it created sent an odd chill down Ford’s spine.

“Stan?” Ford shouted, looking around for his brother. He found his twin outside, staring up at the stars. He didn’t react to any of Ford’s yelling until Ford grabbed his shoulders and spun him around so that Stan was looking at him. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Listen, Ford, it was an accident,” Stan started, but Ford cut him off.

“It wasn’t just an accident, it was a catastrophe! My friends trusted us to take care of their son, what if something had happened to him while he was under our care? Sometimes I swear it’s like you haven’t grown up at all!” Something at the back of Ford’s head told him there was something wrong here. Why wasn’t Stan fighting back? Stan wasn’t one to take a verbal beating like this (not unless it was by their dad). This was what they did! They fought, they cleared the air, they made up, they moved on. But without Stan pushing back, Ford just let more angry words fall from his mouth. “I’m missing an entire wall of my house, Stanley! An accident is forgetting to pick up something from the grocery store! An accident is putting the car in drive when you meant to reverse and hitting the car in front of you. An accident is not putting a child in danger! And it certainly wasn’t an accident when you destroyed-”

And it all cut off. 

All of Ford’s anger dissipated. 

What had he been talking about? 

With the anger gone, Ford could see clearly. Stan’s gaze was steady, unwavering. Ford took a step back. There was something in it that made him nervous. 

“I haven’t grown up at all?” Stan repeated Ford’s words back at him, and Ford flinched. There was no heat in Stan’s voice. “Ford, I need you to look at me. What do you see?”

Ford looked at stan. At his white shirt, his slicked back hair, the five o’clock shadow on the lower half of his face. 

“I see my brother.” He said without hesitation. 

Stan stared at Ford for a bit longer before looking back up at the sky. 

“You got some of them wrong.” Stan said, and without another word went back inside.

Ford didn’t return right away. He looked up at the night sky. There was a perfect half-moon in the sky, stars twinkling. Out here you could see so much of the stars, light pollution not diluting their beauty. It was the wrong time of year for gemini, but he tried to find it anyway. 

oOo

Ford was working on a project alone with Fiddleford when it happens.

Everything is fine one moment. They’re having a bit of fun fixing up a broken car that the town’s mechanic had dropped off the previous day, leaving a note under the windshield wipers saying what was wrong with it and how he couldn’t figure out how to fix the problem. They got the car off the ground so that they could look at the underneath, puzzling through what exactly it was that they’re seeing. 

Ford makes a joke, a nerdy one that he knows only Fiddleford would get, and Fiddleford laughs out loud. 

And then Fiddleford wasn’t next to him.

Ford frowned, rolling out from underneath the car and looking around. Fiddleford was up against the house, shaking, muttering something unintelligible. How he’d moved so fast to get out from under the car and over there was a mystery to Ford. Had he just been so focused he hadn’t noticed?

“Fiddleford?” Ford took a few careful steps towards his friend.

Fiddleford made more incomprehensible sounds. Ford had heard the phrase ‘speaking in tongues’ before, and it definitely seemed to fit this occasion. He barely touched his friend when Fiddleford _ screamed _like a man who had just been stabbed, a sound that Ford was all too familiar with. He’d been stabbed himself before, after all. Ford’s hand went to his side at the reminder. 

“I’ll- I’ll get Stanley, okay, just hang in there Fiddleford.” Ford promised, running into the main part of the house. “Stanley! Stanley, something’s wrong with Fiddleford!”

“Ford?” Stanley came down the stairs with such a speed it was a wonder he didn’t trip. “What, what is it, what’s wrong?” 

“There’s something wrong with Fiddleford!” Ford repeated, heart pounding in his chest. “He just started shaking, and his speech is all wrong, did you two go out and mess with something in the woods that I don’t know about? I need to know everything about what you encountered.” 

“Shaking? Speaking weird, as in it doesn’t sound like English?” Stanley asked. Ford nodded. Stan broke out in a grin, grabbing Ford’s shoulder. “Great, this is great! Yes, perfect!”

“P-perfect? Perfect how?!” Ford stepped back, brushing his twin’s hands off his shoulders. “Stan, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Stan said, grinning even broader. “You need to get back out there, Ford!”

“Stan, what is going on, what is this about?” Ford demanded. He searched Stan’s face for answers but couldn’t find any. He’d never been great at reading people, but Stan had always been the exception to that. When had that changed?

“Ford, I need you to trust me. Go back out there, okay, it’ll all be okay.” Stan stared Ford in the eyes. “Ford, please.” 

He clearly wasn’t going to get any help from Stan. Ford turned around and went back outside, not on Stan’s request for for his friend.

Fiddleford was back under the car, continuing their work as if nothing had happened. 

Ford breathed a sigh of relief. Over what, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

oOo

“It’s the middle of summer, you don’t need to wear a jacket.” 

Stan lifted his eyebrows at Ford. He twisted this way and that. It was red, and looked rather old and beat up. 

“I don’t know, I kind of like.” Stan grinned. 

“You’re going to boil to death in that thing.” Ford shook his head. “It’s the middle of summer.”

“It must be.” Stan said.

“Please, Stan, take the jacket off.” Ford sighed. For a moment it looked like Stan would argue with him. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his brother recently. But as Stan looked at Ford, he finally grumbled and slipped it off. 

“Fine, fine, guess that’s what I get for trying to change things up for once.”

oOo

There was something wrong with the town. 

It had seemed like a good idea initially to head in and grab some groceries. Ford had a theory about the huge vampire bats that had been reported in the area. In fact, he believed they may actually not be vampire bats at all, but instead fruit bats. However, in order to prove this theory he would need some bait, and he wasn’t exactly well-stoked when it came to fresh foods. 

But there was nobody there. 

Ford looked around, trying to spot even the slightest hint of another resident. The shadows seemed dark and moving, but he couldn’t make out a clear shape. He was nothing if not dedicated to a mission, however, and had stopped by the store for the fruit anyway, leaving the money on the counter. When he left the store, the shadows were no longer restricted to the alleys and the edges of his vision.

They milled around with no clear goal in mind, ghosting from place to place. 

He looked too closely at one and swore that for a split second it had solidified, and he had seen his father’s unimpressed face looking back at him. 

He’d run to the car, starting the engine and heading back to the cabin as fast as the car would go. No cops stopped him for speeding, not even in the usual speed traps. There was a cop car there, but it was empty, 

Stan and Ford, thankfully, hadn’t been affected by the shadows. They were still in the house, Stan painting the new wall and Ford running some calculations. 

“The town has become shadows.” He told them, explaining what he saw. 

Fiddleford had pointed out that it was another Gravity Falls mystery. Perhaps this was a normal thing for the town at this time of year. Maybe the whole town was actually made of shadow people. Ford should start researching this too. It was a part of the Gravity Falls weirdness, the reason that Ford was here in the first place. Nothing to worry about, just another thing to look into.

Stan stayed oddly quiet, just staring at Ford. 

oOo

“This ends today.”

Ford looked up from the cataloging of the day’s events. Stan stood, face grim, shoulders set in that way that meant he was preparing himself for a fight that he couldn’t afford to lose. 

“Sorry, I know I haven’t been getting sleep.” Ford closed his book, ready to be dragged off to bed by his brother, but Stan shook his head. 

“No, I mean this.” He gestured vaguely to everything. “If I have to take it into my own hands, I will. After all, all I’m good at is ruining your life.” 

“Stan, what are you talking about?” Ford stood up. Despite being about the same height as his twin, it felt like Stan was towering over him. “You could never ruin my life, you’re my brother. I love you no matter what.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Stan said and grabbed Ford’s hand. Ford jerked away, and Stan’s face softened. “Please, Ford, at least let me try and explain.” 

Something screams in the back of Ford’s mind that there is something wrong with Stan, that he should run, get away, find out what magical thing has been causing the odd actions of his twin. But it’s Stanley, it’s his brother, who came across the entire country to help him with his research, being the brawn that he and Fiddleford had really needed in their studies, and Ford let’s Stan grab his hand. 

Ford is aware that holding a six-fingered hand is odd. Most people find it a bit hard to wrap their hand around that little bit of extra length, Ford’s hands pretty big to begin with even if they were only five-fingered. Stan had never made a big issue of it, but his pinky finger wasn’t quite long enough to wrap around that last finger. So instead, the pinky finger wormed into the space between Ford’s last and second-to-last fingers. 

It was a hand-hold that only Stan ever did when holding Ford’s hands. Ford’s chest ached and tears sprung in his eyes. 

“S-sorry, one moment.” Ford said, quickly wiping away the tears on the sleeve of his other arms. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s okay.” Stan reassured him. “C’mon, let’s go Sixer.” 

Stan lead him through the house to a door, punching something into a keypad. The door opened to an elevator. The screaming in the back of Ford’s head grew, legs shaking as he stepped into the metal box. Stan squeezed his hand. 

“Stan, maybe we shouldn’t be down here.” Ford said. Stan squeezed his hand again.

“Don’t worry, Sixer, it’ll all be okay in a minute. I promise.” 

The elevator door opened and Stan stepped forward, but Ford was rooted to the spot. No, he couldn’t go any further than this. 

“We should get back up stairs.” Ford’s voice quivered. There an unexplainable fear coursing through his veins. Stan turned around, shoulders set once again. 

“No. We’ve gone this far. It can’t wait much longer.” 

“What can’t wait much longer? Stan, why can’t you just tell me?” Ford demanded.

“Because you won’t let me!” Stan snapped and yanked on Ford’s arm, forcing him to step out of the elevator. “We’re getting this over with _ right the fuck now!” _

Ford tried to fight against his brother, but Stan just grabbed him around the waist and carried him, seemingly unhindered by Ford’s kicking and scratching and biting. 

“I can’t be down here!” Ford cried desperately. “You shouldn’t have been down here.” 

“Well we can’t always get what we want, can we Sixer?” Stan grunted and then tossed Ford into a room. It was big and mostly empty. There was a lever in the center of the room, and upside down triangle on the far wall, and four round circles, two one the floor and two on the ceiling. Ford stared at them for a second before looking back at Stan. He was wearing the red coat again, and his hair was longer, dirty and tangled and mangy like a wild dog. 

“Stanley, please!” Ford begged, but it fell on deaf ears. Stan grabbed the lever in the middle of the room and pulled it to the opposite side.

The portal turned on and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

Ford turned to stare at his brother. He could see his back, the brand that was on the shoulder. It would surely scar. Stan turned around, and Ford could see he was crying now, but grinning too. 

“It was pretty good while it lasted, I’ll give you that.” Stan said. Ford walked over to him. 

“Stanley…” Ford was unsure what to say. “I…”

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to force yourself.” Stan chuckled. His form blurred, shifting for a moment into Stanley when he was little, when they had been small and full of energy, bursting with a need to explore and discover. But then that changed too, and Stan was replaced with Ford himself at that age. The young Ford wiped his tears behind his glasses. “It’s going to be okay.” 

And the little Ford pushed the older Ford into the danger zone, into the portal, waving one last time, hand flickering between six and five fingers and the child flickered between forms. 

oOo

Ford jolted awake.

It was rather rude awakening, and it took him a moment to remember where he was.

Yes, of course, he’d offered to look into the disappearance of some townspeople in the most recent dimension he’d found himself in. It had seemed like a good idea to be on good terms with somebody for once. He’d come into this cave at the edge of town during his search. And then there’d been… singing? Yes, he was sure he’d heard singing. A woman, asking him to sit and rest, and then… and then…

“Please, come and rest for a while.” A silky voice said, but not to Ford this time. Ford climbed off the rock he’d apparently been lying on. He was starting to get too old for such things, his back cracking and he straightened out. He felt so drained, still so tired, but he didn’t dare rest for fear of falling asleep again. How long had he been out? 

Ford drew his gun - which he thankfully still had - and gave the room a look. There were two other people sleeping, and piles and piles of bones on the floor. He wrinkled his nose with distaste. Satisfied that there were no immediate dangers in here, he headed in the direction of the voice. He could come back for the people later, right now he had a monster to kill. 

After a few terms he saw the woman from before, beckoning a young woman to lie down on a plush looking bed. 

“Aren’t you tired from the journey, dear? Why don’t you rest that little head of yours. You won’t need to worry about anything again.” The lady promised. The adventurer's eyes were half-lidded, slow and sloppy steps taking her towards the bed. 

Ford shot the siren-like monster where it stood. No reason to chance getting caught under its spell again. 

The young lady blinked, yelping and jumping back as the monster fell to the ground, hopefully dead (though one could never be so sure). She looked around and soon saw Ford. 

“Oh, uh, hi, I’ve uh, I’ve come to save you?” She said, sounded pretty unsure of this fact. 

“Did you now?” Ford raised an eyebrow. She nodded, stepping around the body carefully. 

“Well, you see, I’ve encountered a beast like this before, and when I heard there was one in this area I knew I had to stop it from killing more people. I’m assuming you’re the man the townspeople mentioned who had tried to help a few days ago but hadn’t returned?” She explained. Ford nodded slowly, pocketing his gun and taking out his current journal. 

“Interesting, yes, very interesting. What can you tell me about this creature?” It took Ford a moment longer to find a writing utensil. His current instrument of, not-so-much-choice as it was need, was an lump of pure graphite. 

“Oh, yes, the Dream Snatcher - that’s what my village called it. Well, it lures people to it with promises of rest, and it feeds off your energy while you sleep.” She explained, and Ford nodded. It was a surprisingly common thing. 

“And what of the dreams it produces?” He asked. 

“It’s absolutely diabolical, really. They trap you in your idea of a perfect world-”

“No, they don’t.” Ford shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, what?” The girl looked at Ford curiously. He looked away.

“They can’t trap you in your perfect world. Mine surely wouldn’t have had my brother in it.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any questions or if anything was too confusing don't be afraid to hit me up :D i had a lot of fun writing this and kinda wish i had the time rn to commit to drawing it out into a bit of a longer work. forgive my rushed ending lol


End file.
